


A Prophecy's Weight

by thedevilyouknownow



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Chiron is adorable, Fluff and Angst, Patroclus and Achilles are still dead, visit to the underworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:24:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilyouknownow/pseuds/thedevilyouknownow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment he saw the two of them he knew what their fate would be. It made his heart ache to watch them, so carefree and content when he knew what pain their future held. He took them in, taught them, protected them from Thetis, of course he did, he wanted to grant them as much joy as he could for as long as he could. The burden of their fate was one he carried alone, and it was better that way, for he was Chiron, used to the heavy load of prophecy. He could shoulder it, he had learned to long ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Prophecy's Weight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teethonmydress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teethonmydress/gifts).



From the moment he saw the two of them he knew what their fate would be. It made his heart ache to watch them, so carefree and content when he knew what pain their future held. He took them in, taught them, protected them from Thetis, of course he did, he wanted to grant them as much joy as he could for as long as he could. It was for this reason that he never spoke of what happened between them at the olive grove before they came to him, or what happened when they thought he couldn’t hear, to award them some happiness.

He claimed he did not know the prophecy, what was to befall the young heroes, just as he always did, although it was not the case, never was. They would find out eventually, and telling them early would do nothing to stop what was coming, it would only hurt them. The burden of their fate was one he carried alone, and it was better that way, for he was Chiron, used to the heavy load of prophecy. He could shoulder it, he had learned to long ago.

The story had been the same for decades, young heroes would come to him for training, to make them better fighters, musicians, hunters, and he would gladly offer his services. He would watch them grow into fine young men, strong and brave and determined, and then they would depart, leaving him alone once more. At some point, maybe months, maybe years, he would hear of their fate, the price that came for their gifts and he would sigh, slipping the weight of their misery off his shoulders, shifting it instead to his heart.

Each of the heroes, his heroes, took a piece of him with them when they left, unwittingly craving holes in his skin until he was pockmarked from their departure. In the back of his mind he was afraid that one day there would be no more to give, but he forced himself to banish the thought, as he could not afford to entertain it.

Watching Achilles and Patroclus grow was a privilege in its own right. Seeing how they changed into young men was something he was grateful for. Every year on Achilles’s birthday he held his breath, waiting for the day when soldiers would come to retrieve him, take him away to the war that would eventually be his demise. Every year when they remained undisturbed, save for the gifts Peleus insisted on sending, Chiron was able to breathe again, even if it was only for a moment.

When the fateful day finally came and the soldiers from Phthia arrived, intending to take their beloved prince home, Chiron attempted to remain indifferent, allowing himself only a small smile and a bit of conversation. The naivety with which Patroclus spoke of their return was heartbreaking and it took all that he had not to break when the boy spoke so assuredly of their future. All he could do was nod and watch as his two charges walked away from him and towards their destinies.

The weight of their impending grief pressed heavily on him and he hunched, slowly heading back to the cave. Turmoil raged inside him like a storm; refusing to quiet no matter how many calming herbs he ate. Pinching the bridge of his nose he attempted to feel thankful for the time he was allotted with his trainees, for the foresight that he possessed, but he could not. He was too weary, his load to heavy, his heart too torn. The fates had gifted him the privilege of knowledge at the price of peace.  
~  
When Chiron heard of the young heroes deaths he wasn’t surprised. Impressed yes, but not surprised. They’d managed to last longer than he had expected, but in the end heroes are heroes and they all must pay the price. He could still remember the day of their departure, the warmth of the sun, the happiness that had shone bright as the stars in their eyes. The way Patroclus had promised him, with so much sincerity Chiron had almost believed him, that they would return.

He had heard too the manner in which they had departed, the way Achilles had changed, Patroclus’s sacrifice, Achilles’s demise. It was odd. Although he had known their fate, saw it in their eyes every time he looked too deeply, it still somehow pierced him in a manner none of the others had managed to achieve. Somehow, the two boys had found the chinks in his heavy armor and had burrowed their way in, further then anyone had before.

At first he had ignored it, consciously working around it. Pretending, hoping really, that this new ache would disappear with time, as the others had. As the months passed the hope grew dimmer and dimmer until finally it was extinguished all together. Until the urge to make the wrong right, to see them again, became so all consuming that trying not to was liken to trying not to scratch at the irritating bite of a mosquito.

So, four months after he received word of their deaths, and six months after they had occurred, he set off. The path he was taking was one he was familiar with; he had traveled it quite a few times over the years, although his last trek was a long ways back. Not so long ago that he had forgotten it, but long enough that he had to take his time on the journey. It took longer than he had remembered, four long days with the sun’s full heat pounding down on him. He didn’t mind. He was used to solitude, to the endless noise of nature, to the cruelty of the weather. Trips like these always provided him with some sort of solace. They were a balm on his guilty conscience, ointment on a smarting wound. He clung to the feeling, sometimes delaying his trips just to hold onto it for a moment longer. His old age was making him sentimental.

When he finally reached the door he had been searching for he was weary, the ache under his skin only a little less severe. For a second he hesitated, unsure if he would be welcomed by his mentees, but after a moments pause he knew he could not, in good conscience, turn back now.

The centaur sighed, rolling back his shoulders and adjusting the small pouch that hung a on a leather cord around his waist. The coins inside clinked together, the sound barely audible over the chirping of birdcalls. Grabbing onto the rock that served as a side entrance to the Hades’ realm, Chiron took a deep breath before mumbling the words he had long since memorized and pushing just so on the boulder. There was a shuddering sound as the stone shimmered, its surface rippling like water as it gave way to a dark tunnel heading deep underground. This time Chiron didn’t pause as he strode forward, ducking his head as he entered the passage to the underworld.

The passage was just as dank and narrow as it had been centuries ago when he had first discovered it, he had been gifted the knowledge as payment for some deed completed for Demeter, but he braved it gladly. He owed his heroes that much at least. With every step Chiron felt his heart beat harder, a nervous energy he had not felt for some time coursed through him. His heart raged not at the journey, but at what he would find when it ended.

Reaching the river Styx, he paid the toll, the coins in his pouch, and bypassed the confused souls wandering at the river’s edge. Once his indifference towards the souls would have made him proud, he would have been living up to the gods’ standards, now it just weighted his shoulders, dimmed his eyes. Charon nodded to him as he sat, they knew each other by now and their silence, while heavy, was companionable.

Upon reaching the opposite shore Chiron nodded and watched for only a moment as the boat and its oarsman made their way back through the thick fog. Turning, Chiron made his way toward where Cerberus would be waiting. The old dog was one of his favorite companions; he was one of the truest beings that Chiron knew of. The creature never worked to hide himself, in fact quite the opposite. They were both getting on in years and each time Chiron saw the beast he felt both profoundly old and youthful, for which he was grateful. As he passed the monster raised his heads, on guard for only a moment before the nearest head nudged at him affectionately. The centaur chuckled and gave up a moment of his time to reconnect with the creature once again, but before long he was forced to move on.

The fields of Elysium were just as glorious as prophesied, Chiron himself had only had the privilege of visiting them once before. As he walked through Elysium many waved to him for he was quite old and had taught his fair share of heroes. Each wave helped to straighten his spine and harden his resolve but did little to soothe the aching of his tired heart.

It did not take long to find the two of them, tangled together as they were meant to be, Achilles’ laugh rang loud and Patroclus’ smile shone with the happiness Chiron had seen often in those years long ago. The pain in his heart swelled and for a moment he considered turning back for to disturb them, after all their suffering, felt like a crime he could not bring himself to commit, regardless of his selfishness. Just before he made move to leave Patroclus caught sight of him and his eyes, already alight with joy, sparked with recognition. The young man leaned back against his love and whispered something to him causing the hero to rise, pulling Patroclus up with him. Chiron watched as they made their way to him, down the gentle hill they had been resting upon, letting a small smile onto his face. Now was not the time to be secretive.

“Mentor, how good it is to see you again.” Achilles’ voice when he spoke was lighter, less troubled than Chiron had ever heard it. Even in those stolen years among the trees the man had never sounded so carefree, it made his heart soar.

“I am mentor to you no more Achilles,” he saw the young man’s hand tighten for a moment around Patroclus’ as though he were preparing for some blow, “only friend.” He allowed his smile to grow a fraction and was somewhat relieved when he saw his sentiment echoed back to him on his young companions faces.

“As a friend then.” Achilles nodded and then paused as if he were unsure how to continue. Patroclus stepped forward so that his shoulder was brushing Achilles’ own.  
“What brings you here? It must have been important for you to brave such a journey.” Patroclus, it seemed, had only grown surer of himself with age, and the spirit before him now was different than the young man he had known, though fundamentally similar.

“Of course.” Pausing, Chiron took a moment to gather his thoughts. He was uncertain how to explain to his old trainees just what had prompted him to make such a journey. How does one explain decades of sadness, of mourning, with only a few breaths? “I wished to visit you, both of you, because I felt it necessary to apologize.” Achilles furrowed his brow and Patroclus laughed.

“Whatever for?” He leaned into Achilles a bit. “This is the happiest we’ve ever been.” The smile that flashed over Achilles’ face was one so pure, so quick, that Chiron felt he should not have witnessed it; something so private should only be seen by one's love. Still, he had come for a reason and he knew his burden would not be lifted until he had said his piece.

“I deceived you whilst you were under my care.” The crinkled brows and tilted heads prompted him to continue, though his mouth felt dry and his tongue leaded, “I knew your fate from the moment we met yet I did not warn you or prepare you. In the end it was…somewhat worse than I suspected.” A dark cloud seemed to have passed over Patroclus’ face at his words and Achilles clenched his free hand into a tight fist, bending over slightly to place a kiss on the hand he clasped with his own. 

Chiron cleared his throat, “I do not wish to cause you more strife,” he chuckled, “quite the opposite actually.”

“Chiron, it is not you who brings us strife, just as it was not then. The gods are merciless at times, we know that better than anyone.” Achilles was in his speech as he was when he fought and trained: precise. Chiron thought of the boy he’d seen frolic amongst the trees, of the man he’d seen laughing mere moments before and felt his heart melt just the slightest amount. “You cannot blame yourself for what happened for you were not the cause of our destiny, nor were you its fulfiller.”

“If anything,” Patroclus added, just as solemn as his other half. “You were a solace to us. Yes, you did not save us, but nothing could have.” Pausing for a moment Patroclus looked at him thoughtfully before continuing, “We were young and arrogant, as all children are. We were sure of ourselves and our immortality. You taught us as best you could, you tried to instill in us the values that could have saved us if we had listened just a bit harder.” There was a tension between the two of them now, Patroclus and Achilles, that spoke of a conversation not quite finished, of fights not quite over, but Chiron did his best to ignore it and give the two men privacy in their own affairs.

“We both appreciate what you did for us, for that little space you carved out for us away from the world. Where we could be free of earthly duties and restrictions and experiment.” They all shared a knowing chuckle at that and Chiron assumed that the discussion was over but Achilles surprised him, as the boy had often been known to do, with his words.

“It is not just us who thank you for what you have done. All those who I have had the pleasure to become acquainted with who were once under your care are appreciative. You may only remember them as they were, or as they are now, may remember your guilt over their demise, but they do not share your feelings. You, more than most, know that the best stories need both suffering and joy. For many you were that joy, certainty for us you were for a time. And that, more than any prophecy or teaching, is what you have passed on to your disciples. Thank you. As both mentor and friend, thank you.”

For a moment Chiron could not think over the emotion swirling inside of him. The ache, which had persisted for so long, was gone as if by magic. Overcome, the centaur almost reached for the specters in front of him, though to do so would have been pointless he knew, but after a moment he was able to calm himself enough to speak.

“Your words have affected me more than you can know. I see now more than ever the brilliant men you have become. Thank you both,” his gazed at both of the souls before him in turn, “for without this conversation…” he trailed off unable, or unwilling, to continue. “I wish only the best for you, may your lives here make up for the cruelties of fate.”

The three of them stood there in silence for a minute, enjoying the visit and getting what would most likely be the last glimpses of each other, before separating slightly. Chiron knew he must be leaving, he had been too long in the underworld already, and only waited an instant before turning to go.  
He looked back over his shoulder only once on his way out of the underworld, and it was to see Patroclus and Achilles smiling at each other with such deep affection that Chiron’s heart ached for an entirely different reason.

When he again reached his home, only having been gone a short time, he felt freer than he had in many years. In that moment he was content. He knew the future held decades more of heroes, of loss, of grief, but he knew also that it contained joy and wildness and unhampered youth. For the first time in many years Chiron was able to look into the future and feel himself smile, and that was perhaps better than any other gift he had been given.


End file.
